


Partner

by fannishliss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Cassie's the kind of girl who'd make a great partner, Dean thinks -- if only they lived in the same world.</p><p> Cassie Robinson is Dean's canon ex in  "Route 666" (1.13)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partner

Dean had always been a drifter. He didn't think of Lawrence, Kansas, as home -- that home had been destroyed when his mother was killed, and four-year-old Dean went on the road. From that  moment on, the Impala was something more than a car to him.  It was the only place in the world that had ever really belonged to him.  It welcomed him home with the smells of hot leather and petroleum, the way some kids are welcomed with cookies and tall sweating glasses of cold milk.  The back seat with Sam was his fort, his hideout, and he grew up there, till he mostly rode shot gun while Sam read through textbooks, and finally he got behind the wheel himself. 

So, if Dean was a drifter, he was okay with that. For the most part, it was all right.  The worst was the year Sammy left to go to Stanford.  Dad gave Sam an ultimatum -- if he walked out that door, never to come back -- and Dean's little brother just went ahead and walked. Everything he'd done for Sam, the way he'd taken care of the kid -- all the times he'd tried to get between them to soften the arguments -- all for nothing.  Dad was willing to let Sam go, and Sam was willing to leave and never come back. Fine, then, if that was the way they wanted to play it.  Dean was just as stubborn as the rest of his family-- after Sam left, he didn't call his brother all year.

The straw that broke the camel's back was this beautiful girl named Cassie.  God, she was gorgeous -- tall, and thin, her black hair thick and wavy, her features stunning -- but that wasn't really what drew Dean in.  It was the way she never backed down.  She always looked him in the eye.  He met her on a Hunt in Athens, Ohio (bunch of haunted sororities, and that had really not turned out the way he'd hoped) -- she was doing her thing, investigative journalism -- and every lead he followed, he'd find she'd gotten there before he did. 

So he offered her a ride, and with a wide grin, she accepted.  Another thing about Cassie-- she didn't second guess herself.  She was a person who knew how to make up her mind.  Dean liked that a lot, and he must've let it show, cause that evening he'd certainly reaped the benefits.  Cassie was an independent, free-thinking woman, and she took Dean to bed with no arguments on his part, that was for sure. He was more than willing to go along with whatever she had in mind, and whoa, but these college girls certainly did their research!

The arguments started as they picked up speed on the clues.  Cassie was convinced that the brothers of one of the most infamous party frats were behind the sorority killings, but Dean thought the pattern more likely the work of a vengeful spirit -- most likely a girl who'd committed suicide a few years earlier; rumor had it she had walked in on one of her sisters in bed with the guy she'd been obsessing over.   The women who were being killed at the sorority houses were "falling" out of upper story windows, usually after they'd been seen with good looking, dark haired men.  Cassie thought the men were the perpetrators, but Dean couldn't explain why he disagreed, so Cassie just thought he was being muleheaded and sexist.

After a couple weeks of false leads, as well as disagreements over how the clues added up, Dean finally pinned down the girl's name and located her grave.  He wanted to salt and burn the bones as soon as possible -- it had taken too long already -- so he had refused to back Cassie up when she wanted to tail one particular guy.

When he caught up with her early the next morning, she had been furious.  The guy had caught on she was tailing him, and used his size to physically intimidate her. Even though he hadn't touched her, it had been really frightening, and that was why she was so mad.  

"Cassie, come on.  How is this my fault?  I told you that guy had nothing to do with it."

"How do you know he had nothing to do with it?  I've got evidence linking him to two of the girls.  And when he turned on me last night?  He might've killed me too, you know that?"

"First of all, he's a frat guy.  There's probably evidence linking him to three quarters of the sorority girls on campus.  Besides, he's not the violent type."  Dean went with his gut on things like that. He knew the type, big, good-looking and smug  -- a bit like himself in a way -- he wasn't above a bit of physical intimidation, especially when he needed information -- but he'd never really hurt some one who wasn't trying to hurt him first. 

"No?  How do you know?  He certainly seemed threatening to me!"

Dean felt his conscience pain him.  "Ok, ok -- I'm not trying to condone what he did -- he should've just told you to back off.  But the point is you're safe, and that guy didn't hurt you.  If he had, I'd be tracking him down right now to rip his lungs out!"

Cassie was taken aback at that, her anger deflating just a little.

"Listen, Dean, don't do me any favors.  I can take care of myself,"  she started, but Dean interrupted before she could start off down this new road.

"I know it, Cassie, that's one of the things I love about you."  Oh God.  What had he just said.

Dean saw Cassie's eyes go round for a second, then she started to get mad again, but he caught her hand and gently  pulled her close to him. She yielded slightly, but there was plenty of tension left in her body.  Cassie was fairly made of pride. She was like Sam that way, in a lot of ways actually. 

If she hadn't reminded Dean so much of Sam, in fact-- if he hadn't started letting himself imagine what it might be like to have such a brilliant and beautiful woman beside him, Hunting together, with her as the partner Sam had proved how much he didn't want to be -- and goddamn it, it was Sam's birthday tomorrow, and the kid was turning twenty without even a word from Dean, or Dad, and that just wasn't right...  
Dean shook his head.  His thoughts were all racing around in circles.

"Listen, just let me take you out tonight.  To make it up to you. Please?"

Dean didn't hesitate to give her the big, sincere eyes.  After all, he really was sincere.  He was!

Cassie relented.  "Okay.  Pick me up at 5:30.  And don't be late, because I get hungry!!"

Dean grinned.  He'd be on time.

He went for a nice run while the morning was still cool, then did routine weapons maintenance and laundry. After lunch, he drove the Impala to a carwash and cleaned her till she sparkled.  He washed the interior with vinegar for the glass and Murphy's oil soap for the leather, going over everything with an old toothbrush of Sam's he'd once confiscated for the purpose.  The Impala was perfect inside and out, leaving Dean a lazy hour to shower and dress and pull up casually at Cassie's off-campus apartment on the stroke of 5:30 pm.

"God damn it, Dean, but you do clean up pretty!!" Cassie said, smoothing her hand down his cheek.  She gave a little "mmm, mmm!" of approval, then patted the Impala to boot. "And you spruced up your baby?  Yes, I overheard you calling her that!"

Dean blushed and wrinkled up his nose, at a loss.  "I just wanted tonight to be special."

She took the opportunity to pull him down for a kiss.  His head was swimming by the time she pulled away.  Damn, but the woman could kiss.

He shook his head to clear it and walked around to the driver's side, a bemused smile on his face as he drove them to a great, nearby, burger place that Cassie had clued him in on.

They had large, delicious juicy burgers with all the toppings, and split a mocha shake.   Heaven.

Dean drove Cassie about forty-five minutes to a place he'd noticed on the way into town.  It was a big empty field alongside the road with an old lane leading to a grove of spreading oaks.  He figured there'd been a house there that must have burned down a while back, leaving the beautiful trees standing.  In the evening light, the oaks were beautiful, their spring leaves fresh and new.  Sammy's birthday coming up, Dean thought, and stifled the thought.

They sat on the closed trunk, drinking some beer.  He had sought out a six of a local microbrew Cassie liked.  They relaxed and listened to the sounds of the evening as the stars one by one, came out.

"There's Venus," Dean said, pointing, "the wishing star.  You wanna make a wish?"

Cassie must've forgiven him pretty well by now, considering she just finished off her beer, slid off the trunk, and pulled him by the hand behind her, into the back seat.

Dean would never forget how beautiful she was as she laid him back on the seat, took off his clothes, and hers, and climbed on top of him. Dean took a lot of pride in knowing how to please a woman, and if Cassie liked to be the one in charge, he was more than willing to go along with it.

She kissed him possessively and he opened up for her, moaning in pleasure as she lightly rubbed herself against him. Her fingers found his nipples, and she laughed when he gasped, smiling into his widened eyes with an evil grin. She rolled him over and teased him, alternately rubbing his back and tickling his ribs, biting his neck and licking his spine, massaging his thighs and calves and running sharp fingernails across the soles of his feet until he was a mess of overstimulated responses, muscles jerking, anticipating.

"You look so gorgeous in the moonlight like this," she whispered, "the moonlight on all that pale, freckled skin... all twitchy with wondering just what I'll do next, hm? What do you want me to do next, Dean?"

"Anything, Cassie. Whatever you want. Just whatever!" Dean was game, let no one say otherwise.

Dean felt Cassie shift, and she did a little shimmy up behind him, then she purred, "How about this, Dean? Anybody ever had you this way?"

Cassie leaned her body down over Dean's back. He felt her breasts pressing soft against him as her hand came around to his mouth. He kissed her finger and tasted her unmistakeable musk, part mammal, part ocean. He groaned as the scent went straight through his brain and down his spine.

Her hand, it felt like, followed, as she reached back inside herself and drew out her finger again, all wet and slick.

Dean pressed helplessly down into the blanket he'd laid across the seat of the Impala. It was the sort of soft, clean cotton blanket you might take on picnics, if you were the sort who went on picnics, or if you were the sort who needed a soft blanket in the backseat of the car you hoped on getting lucky in that night.

He forgot all that as he felt her finger breach him, and then her tongue followed suit. "ohhh, Cassie," he moaned, trying to relax, his ass clenching around her.

"Shhh. Just breathe. You'll like it, I promise."

Before long, her finger was moving freely. The friction was weird as it moved in and out. Then she added another finger and seemed to feel around for something.

"Ahh! Cassie! Cass!" Dean shouted, muffled by the blanket.

Cassie chuckled and kept on going. Each time her two fingers pressed in, Dean felt an electric thrill shoot through his whole body, till he didn't know quite what to do.

"Now turn over," she whispered, and he struggled to comply. The Impala's back bench seat was generous, but still, he was over six feet, and she had her fingers in his ass. The rotation was a challenge, but he did it.

"Condom," she said, and handed him a packet that he tore open with shaky fingers, and he put it on himself, breathing out harshly as her fingers continued their mysterious work. A light scent of fruit floated through the car.

"Flavored," she said, then went down on him.

Dean fell apart. Her fingers, working him from the inside -- her left hand, gripping him tight around the base -- her mouth, gliding smoothly with just enough pressure to tease him, but not enough to bring him over. He wanted to thrust, but her strong hand was holding him down -- he wanted to clench, but her fingers were inside him. He tried to let his mind wander, to get a bit of distance from the overpowering feelings -- but she was stroking into him with incredible shocks of pleasure that prevented him from drifting, locking him into the sensory overload of here and now.

He looked up at her with blissful eyes as she pulled off to grin down at him. She was so damned beautiful. He'd never felt like this for any girl, never felt so willing to place himself wholeheartedly in her hands.

Suddenly she straddled him, her knees around his hips. "Here, up," she said, and he braced his body on his elbows, drawing his knees up as she instructed.

Fascinated he saw her reach into herself again with her left hand, gathering up the dripping wetness, and once she had them arranged -- she twisted, reaching back and driving her fingers into him again, wet and smooth from her what she'd gathered, just as she sank down on him, gripping him tightly inside her strong sheath.

"Now, don't move," she warned as Dean tried to breathe through clenched teeth.

He felt her ripple around him, almost a milking motion, as she worked her inner muscles in a kind of invisible dance. The random thought occurred to him that this was what belly dancers were trying to make you think about. She closed her eyes and frowned in concentration as she gently probed inside him, dancing on him, never moving. At last she began to breathe heavier.

"There, ah there, oh Dean, right there!" she jumped a little, two, three times, and then she was coming. He was pressed so deeply inside her -- her body so hot inside, like a fever, as she held him right where she wanted, and then he was coming too, and she bent down and kissed him, her soft curls falling all around his face as she let go and kissed him, over and over, as they came down.

They were sitting in the front seat, dressed again, when Dean came to his decision.

"Cassie, I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?"  she said smiling. "You in love now, honey?" she teased wickedly.

He rolled his eyes, but chose not to answer, just gave her a wise-faced smirk.

"Seriously, though.  It's about the sorority killings.  You don't need to worry any more -- it's all over."

Cassie looked confused and a little angry.  "Let's don't start with that again.  Those girls won't be safe till we get the murderer put behind bars."

"That's not gonna happen,"  Dean said, then started again, letting out a deep breath. "Look, it was a ghost, all right?  My dad and I, this is what we do.  I work with him, we Hunt bad things, then we go on to the next thing."

Cassie's mouth was hanging open in shock.  She closed it, but then turned on Dean angrily. "A ghost? that's classy!  If you're gonna  lie your way out, at least you could come up with something better than that. I'm a big girl, Dean, you could just say it's been fun."

"What?  No!" Dean protested.  She thought he was trying to break up?   Was she kidding?  Flabbergasted, at last Dean just got out of the car. Cassie got out on her side too,  and they stalked around to where they'd sat  on the trunk in the dusk, sharing beers.

The stars were bright in the clear spring sky, the moon half full, but it was pretty dark there under the old oaks.

"Look, I'll just show you, okay?"  Dean said.  And he opened the trunk.  And then the weapons box.

Cassie's eyes got wide as she took in the array of weapons -- handguns, shotguns, rifles, knives, and all kinds of implements of destruction.   "Oh, my god.  My god!  Dean!  What have you ---  are you -- this is insane!  Look, take me home.  I want to go home now, Dean."  Cassie was backing away, but she had nowhere to go.

"What?  Cassie, no -- it's okay."

"No, it's not okay, Dean.  You can't just go vigilante.  There has to be justice!  When you said you'd track that guy down, I thought you were just kidding!"

"No, it's not like that!  Calm down.  I'm not a vigilante!  I'm a Hunter."

"Call it what you want, Dean, it's wrong.  Take me home!"  Cassie was angry and scared now, maybe crying a little. Her eyes were wet and wide.

"No!  Cassie, please, you've got  to understand.  Evil spirits, monsters, I take 'em down.  It's what I do -- what I've always done."

Now Cassie really was crying.  "Oh, god, Dean!  you've done this before? They're not monsters, they're criminals -- men like you!  Oh my god! Please, just take me home!"  Dean hated to see the strong, impressive woman Cassie really was, floundering in so much distress, and he was to blame.  He had to make her understand -- then it would all be okay.

"No, I mean it -- monsters!  evil spirits! ghosts!  Look, last night while you were tailing that guy, I was out digging up a grave to salt and burn the bones.  This girl, Melinda Higgins, who killed herself over a boy back in '97-- she's the culprit, not those dumbass frat boys you've been tailing!"

There, it was out. But Cassie wasn't hearing him anymore. 

"Oh my god, Dean! You're crazy!  Just, please, take me home!!!"

Dean felt the bitterness inside him swell to near impossible levels.  God damn it all to hell.  Again.  He was thrown away again. Just like Sammy had never wanted to Hunt with him -- just like Dad left him the easy stuff to finish up alone -- now Cassie was dismissing him as crazy, if not a serial killer.  Well, fine.  If no one needed Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester didn't need them either.

He drove her home without another word, left town after picking up his bags from the room. He'd soon catch up to Dad, who'd gone ahead a few days back, impatient to go after something he said was more pressing.

Around two am, somewhere in Pennsylvania, he pulled over at a roadside picnic area.  He put her in park, leaned back against the door, and closed his eyes.  By the time he woke up it was well past dawn, and he roused himself to go stretch his legs and answer the call of nature.   Getting back in, he noticed the rumpled blanket wadded up in the rear footwell.  He held it up to his nose and it smelled like...  hell.  Never mind.

He stomped over to a trash bin and stuffed the blanket down.  It was Sam's birthday.

The Impala gleamed in the clear morning light, her detailing from yesterday unmarred.  He got in and she sparkled around him, the clean smell of oil soap faint in the air. 

"Well, baby, it's just you and me.  Just you and me," Dean said. 

And if the road shimmered a little in front of him till he wiped his eyes, it was just a mirage, the heat dancing on the highway.

**Author's Note:**

> This series of stories, ficlets and drabbles featuring the Impala and the Women of Supernatural are being posted as part of the 42 Days of Metallicar, hosted by alias_chick (summer 2009) . 
> 
> My take on the events of Cassie and Dean's breakup doesn't quite jibe with canon because I don't really trust their very subjective remembrances of how it went down. I tried to make it conform as closely as possible to the transcript, and did a rewatch, etc... they are just two very intense people who really click, but they don't quite live in the same world. The timing of Dean's reveal to Cassie is from John's Journal -- it really does happen the day before Sam's birthday -- very significant I think. I had John leave town early for dramatic purposes, contrary to the journal. 
> 
> One more note: in the super wiki there is an interesting piece of trivia. According to Show editor, Anthony Pinker, "The violence we don't get a lot of notes on" but for "Route 666" "... The note I got from the network was 'The girl can't be on top.'" !?!


End file.
